onionbagblog

To the Odeon! …on Monday lunchtime. You know the score by now. Monday is cheapest chips day at this Sunny Cold Odeon. Book online and you can snaffle up a ticket for a grubby fiver.

I have made the point of looking at the cinema listings to see which is the longest film. Never mind the length, feel the thickness etc. If I’m going to buy a dirt cheap ticket then I want to stretch it out so I can spend as much time in the cinema, getting real value for money.

Which brings us to Odyssey of course. I admit that I hold no great knowledge when it comes to the classics. I was first introduced to the Odyssey back in SE17 whilst working on the school website. The Year 5 kids knew more about The epic tale than I did.

We’ve wanted to see this film for some time now but time and tide haven’t behaved very well for us. If you’re going to watch a three-hour film then you need to set aside three hours in a day to take it all in - which pretty much rules out doing anything else either side of it.

It didn’t get off to a good start in Screen 2 at the Sunny Colch Odeon on Monday lunchtime. Just as the opening scene was starting to build up, someone let rip at the back of the cinema with the most almighty fart. You dirty dog.

I tried to put this to the back of my mind and focus on the film. It proved rather tricky. Even throughout a film three hours in duration, I wanted to turn around and see who the phantom farter was. This is school holiday time. This explains a lot.

But anyway, the Odyssey. I knew I might struggle with some of the intricacies of the plot. I was just about able to keep up with Jackass 5 last time round at the Odeon. The Odyssey was a little bit higher on the intellectual level.

Having said that it is a truly fantastic film. It’s a complete epic which had me gripped for more or less the entire duration. I think I just about managed to keep up with what was going on.

What helped was the rowing WivGigs action taking place. A lot of the film is sea-bound. You have plenty of sweeping shots of the Greek army doing their best WivGigs impression and rowing round and round and round. I was familiar with terms such as holding water.

The plot line is pretty predictable but I guess that’s not down to Christopher Nolan as he’s only following the classic piece of literature that he was presented with.

The villains really are pretty bad boys, whilst you find yourself cheering on the heroes, which are highly likely to have a happy ending.

There was a slight twist towards the final scene, which I wasn’t expecting. I also wasn’t expecting the Phantom Farter to then spark up and fill Screen 2 at the Sunny Colch Odeon with a haze of incredibly strong weed.

Never a dull moment in these Monday Cheapest Chips Sunny Colch Odeon experiences.

You could say it was an Odyssey all in itself.

Some Ozrics and Neil Young. They both come from the same overall strand of the Rock Family Tree, right?

Sure the Ozrics deviated off slightly and went back to the future with their drugs. Old Shaky, however, preferred to plough his course of more traditional blue-collar, roll-up-your-sleeves rock and roll.

Each have their own merits. I’m starting to become something of an Ozrics completist. That’s a very dangerous path to tread.

It’s almost impossible to even find a definitive discography, let alone manage to source up all their releases. My rough rule of thumb is if something appears online and it’s cheap as chips then snaffle it up.

I was surprised at how much I enjoy playing Neil Young’s Weld from start to finish whilst on a train journey last week. I’m not normally a fan of live albums but this is a great mix of him bawling his heart out and getting all deep and emotional with his more soulful stuff.

Neil Young and the Ozrics collaborating, now that’s something I would like to see.

Another start to the week, another run around the Estuary Wilds. Time was a little tight as ever. Never underestimate the complete faff it takes me to actually get my arse out of the front door.

I quite like these tight deadlines. I had precisely 50 minutes for the 10 km circuit ahead of the next work shift. This was the motivation I needed to pick up pace compared to recent runs.

It was a little fresher out there this morning. I noticed a difference straight away as soon as I hit the Quayside. Once again it was absolutely deserted around there shortly after 8 am.

I headed out along the sea wall. I had to play a game of dodge the cow pats. It looks like someone has had fun overnight littering the path heading down to Whitehouse Beach.

The tide was half in, half out. It looked a little pathetic to be honest. I’ve had deeper baths.

This didn’t stop the stench of seaweed as I approached the Creek. It was actually rather invigorating and helped me to power on with an increased pace.

The back half of the run was rather uneventful. The roads were relatively quiet with the schools closed.

I thought I could manage the 10 km route but fell a little short with my pace. I cut off the final 1 km in order to be at my work desk bang on time.

An artist I’ve always wanted to explore in more detail. This seemed like a good opportunity.

The general feel of the album is less reliance on jazz, as is the case with Soft Machine, but you still can’t escape that very English undercurrent of folk meets jazz, all mixed up with some pretty trippy drugs. His voice sounds an octave too low, but that doesn’t really matter with some of the crazy shit going off around it.

This sounded as though it was a lot of fun to record. Maybe it was an album more for the artist himself than for the audience. There’s still something that fascinates me about Kevin Ayers and I’d love to dig a lot deeper.

⭐ ⭐ ⭐

More tomatoes, more courgettes. We do have some variety over at the allotment. Honest. Future updates will hopefully introduce you to the brave new world of sweet corn. Tomatoes, courgettes and sweet corn. That’s a diet to eat yerself fitter.

The tomatoes are ripening now at a rapid pace, and yep, that includes the yellow ones. An allotment email went around telling people to keep an eye on their tomatoes. The fifth heat wave is expected to complete the crop well ahead of the early autumn allotment show.

Meanwhile I’m still perplexed by the curly whirly courgettes. They taste super fine so far. We have chopped them up rather finely and then fried them to serve alongside a pasta meal. They still give me the giggles.

To Wivenhoe Town Cricket Club! …on a very hot and sticky Estuary Wilds Sunday afternoon. Wivenhoe were hosting Abberton as part of the Sunday social match.

These very same two teams paired off on pretty much the same wicket 24 hours earlier. Same as it ever was etc. There IS life in Essex Village cricket beyond both Wivenhoe and Abberton. I think.

What I’ve really enjoyed about watching Wivenhoe this summer is the belief and trust placed in youth. We’re not talking teenagers here but really young kids, possibly eleven or twelve upwards.

This was the case for the first session of umpiring. The two umpires looked as though they were about to make the transition from primary to secondary school. They did a mighty fine job in holding the game together.

The wicket itself caused a few problems. It was as far as possible to the left of the square and away from the pavilion. The best vantage point would have been right in my sweet corn patch over in the allotment.

We opted instead, along with the rest of the growing crowd of Sunday social spectators, to sit close to the pavilion. It is always best to be within walking distance of the bar.

Chin chin.

When we arrived, ever so slightly fashionably late, Wivenhoe were toiling away in the field. Abberton were already on 106 for 1 after 19 overs.

We’re starting now to be on head nodding and even hello terms with some of the Wivenhoe players. We’ve also got a couple of faves. One of these is the hop, skip and jump Wivenhoe spin bowler, who was looking half decent once again this afternoon.

The only downer for me was that I was sitting around some dog shit. I didn’t realise this at first. A wicket fell and I missed it. I had dog shit on my mind.

This was a hot afternoon where responsibilities needed to be shared. The call went out from the pavilion for a new scorer. I half fancied my chances but I struggle with basic arithmetic at the best of times. If in doubt make it up.

Something else we have noticed from this rather marvellous level of village cricket is that there is more spin than pace. Wivenhoe had three genuine spin bowlers who were turning the ball with some ease. Take note Surrey.

Abberton were putting on something of a run chase. A couple of consecutive big boundaries did some scoreboard damage. One of the balls came very close to me in my dog shit patch. I got to live out my village cricket dreams by returning the ball. I just about managed to throw it 10 m or so.

The Estuary Wilds' heat was unforgiving. We had to do a strategic shifting of the picnic bench to take under more cover.

Meanwhile there was some impressive pace coming from the Wivenhoe ginger kid, who was having to bowl up the hill.

The youth theme continued when out from the hutch strolled out Abberton’s new batter, who must have still been at primary school. His partner out in the middle was slightly more rotund. It was like watching Little and Large at the crease together.

The young kid managed one run and was then caught. I think everyone watching by the boundary was just pleased to see that he didn’t walk after his first ball. This left Abberton with an impressive 205 for eight after 40 overs.

A brief turn around and after some sausage rolls were necked in the pavilion, and it was then time for Abberton to take to the field. I was surprised to see the young kid had been entrusted to keep wicket for the visitors. Once again he didn’t let his more mature teammates down.

The Wivenhoe opener was caught very cheaply in the first over. Oh dear.

Meanwhile a leather boy rocked up with his motorbike behind the bowler’s arm. A slight delay took place. You don’t see this very often at Lords.

It was at this stage in the afternoon that I dozed off. The fall of another wicket woke me up.

Abberton were very vocal in the field. SHOUT OUT to one of their players who put in an impressive sprint in a chase with the ball towards the boundary, and then an even more impressive dive on what is a rock hard surface. Good effort fella.

Wivenhoe were chasing the game. Meanwhile back at base I was keen to catch the second half of Mansfield Town against Sheffield United. I made my excuses and wandered off.

Another decent afternoon out at Rectory Road.

I returned to cycling around the bloody Estuary Wilds early on Sunday morning. This was my first time back rolling out on a pair of large wheels. Various household shit going off has blocked access to my bikes. Finally an end is in sight.

Have large wheel bike, will travel.

Chapeau!

We pumped up some air in the roadies and started to live out our pro-rider cycling dreams. We’ve all done that, right?

The route over towards the Suffolk side of our patch has been blocked for the past year or so. Blame the bloody Garden Village.

A quick shifty on the Essex County Council live traffic website the night before revealed that the country lane, which now crosses over a new link road to nowhere, should be open once again. What could possibly go wrong?

We reached the junction where we would normally keep on cycling down a country lane and head out towards the middle of bloody nowhere. I’m really surprised with the speed it has taken to complete the new road.

I think it was officially open although it was hard to tell with the very low level of Sunday morning traffic.

As well as appearing out of nowhere, I think the road leads to nowhere. My online snooping last night suggests there is still some more work to do and it comes to a dead stop.

I found it really hard to get my bearings. Basically the new road has been built right over the top of the small country lane that we use as our escape route. Rather helpfully there were some cycle crossings across the main road.

Logic told me that the crossing would bring me back to the other side of my lane. I reached the other side of the A road but still found it hard to get my bearings. Around a minute or so later and I was back on track.

It might have been a new road but there was the same old mattresses being dumped. I also had a bit of a run-in with a dickhead van driver who took offence to me at riding a bike on a Sunday morning. I took offence to him being a dickhead van driver.

Finally we reached freedom and some rolling country lanes. The fields looked like autumn but the weather felt like mid-June. We’re completely fucked when it comes to the climate.

A couple of hills were climbed. It felt good once again to be cleated in and dancing on my pedals. I’ve still got it Comrades, I’ve still got it.

Destination Dedham was reached. We stopped for a brief drink and then carried on around some of the other quiet lanes.

There was a sign in one straw field with a large sign saying: Don’t be a tosser. It’s all about not discarding fag ends innit.

A bit of a round circuit was reached and we crossed over the new A road and were heading back to base. Some fella sped past us in the opposite direction with a pair of time trial handlebars. Good effort.

We were back home in time for the bloody church bells to get right on my tits.

To Wivenhoe Town Cricket Club! …on Saturday afternoon. One week it’s the La-de-da lifestyle down at The Oval, and then the next it’s back to the parched barren patch that wouldn’t look out of place as a burnt-off straw field from a farmer.

Actually that’s a little unfair on the ground staff at Wivenhoe. The wickets have somehow managed to maintain their greenness. It’s just that the outfield resembles grated cheddar.

We rocked up fashionably late as ever. We weren’t alone. We’ve learned over recent months that the real action begins around 3 pm when the socialites start to arrive at Rectory Road.

Abberton with the opposition for the second eleven this afternoon. A quick squint at the scoreboard and we could see that the visitors were on 123 for three. A running debate throughout the afternoon was how many overs are played in this format.

Having taken up a position in the sun as a hard bastard, my guard was let drop less than ten minutes later as I retreated to the shade. Phew! What a scorcher! etc.

The wicket was on the other side of the ground. There was quite a large gap between our seats and the boundary rope closest to us. I still managed to have a front row seat for a stunning catch by one of the Wivenhoe fielders.

Some big hitting followed from Abberton. I couldn’t work out if this was a decent batting performance or equally a decent bowling performance, as Wivenhoe seemed to match them with wickets falling.

The opportunity of a lost ball over in the allotment end led to early drinks being taken. There was also a change of Umpires. Like I said it was bloody hot work out there.

We had a good chance at the drinks break to see who was playing for the second eleven. There were a couple of very, very young kids holding their own in the side. These could possibly have been twins.

It was disappointing to hear some of the other banter around on the boundary being all about football. It was even more disappointing that it was bloody West Ham.

The wickets started to fall at a rapid pace after the drinks break. One Abberton player in particular stormed back in anger to the pavilion.

Abberton reached Gawd knows what, with 44 overs on board. It might have been around 251. This still didn’t settle the question about how many overs were being played. They either just fell short of their 45 allotted overs, or were back in the hutch early if it was 50. I suspect the former.

I had a bar trip at the break. I was able to see the tempting teas on offer for the players. The spread looked amazing. It would probably be worth playing cricket for the afternoon teas alone.

A brief turnaround and out came Abberton to the field. It was excessive seeing some of their pace bowlers with the white war paint on.

The two Wivenhoe openers were slow and steady with their response. The aim appeared to be to keep the partnership and then accelerate the run as the overs continued.

Back at base I had set my telly to record the crappy MI London match in the horrid Hundred. I was almost half relieved when some kid sitting next to me scrolled his phone and shouted out the score. That will save a job of catching up with that crap later.

With around ten overs bowled by Abberton, sadly I had to make my excuses and head home for some work. Another decent afternoon watching some proper cricket.

I wasn’t expecting a big security guard geezer and a bag check ahead of entering the Duncan Grant exhibition at Firstsite. Sadly some of the right-wing nut jobs have taken offence to the idea of homosexuality being celebrated in art form, dickheads. The broad theme for the exhibition is the changing ways some LGBTQ+ people find one another online and offline. Truth be told it’s pretty average art.

There was some X-rated action behind closed doors where you were given plenty of warning about what you might see. The artwork itself was hardly shocking. If anyone is going to take offence then it might be from the potty-mouth profanity coming out of a PA system. I couldn’t see what all the fuss is about to be honest.

What We Did During the Plague at the Minories in Sunny Colch was half decent. It’s a retrospective exhibition of the work produced by Phil Jupitus during those weird lockdown days. It shows his unique approach to collages using Polaroids and creating custom postcards for his pals. There’s a lot to take in with over 100 pieces of work. The detail changes within each postcard but the format and formula remain the same. I just about got all the cultural reference points.